Edifice
by summerthyme record
Summary: It all begins with the Tower... In this world, fate determines that Jellal and Erza are to grow up in the midst of a two-faced fiend, an assortment of prospective evildoers, and each other. AU, Jerza
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE **

* * *

><p>In the dark age of true magical warfare, one boy is born amongst many. He is born into the Fernandes family, a cohesion of terribly formidable mages who battle alongside a multitude of legal guilds to rid the darkness from the world. He's luckier than most- at the time- and has a family: a mother and a father. He has friends: an assortment of sons and daughters of the maids and caretakers of the house. It's normal (at least he thinks it is).<p>

(He is not aware of the sheer number of mages who died in the war; he's not aware of the true identity of his parents, the power they possess.)

Normalcy is the worst kind of fakery. Because it's all just _gone_ one day—the day that his parents don't return home and the mansion was lit ablaze, when he's knocked out and thrown bodily over a grown man's shoulder. It's sad, because the faces of the mother and father and the children of the house (whose souls rose to the heavens) are slandered within time and neither remembered with endearment or loathing.

He's only a boy, albeit an unfortunate one living in unfortunate circumstances, but there's a difference between this boy and all the others in the world:

It is to be learnt and known that Jellal Fernandes is not expendable.

:::

Jellal can hear the _swish swish_ of the waves thrumming against the coastlines, feel the course sands underneath his bare feet, and the fear that's pooling into iron lead into his stomach. He's visited the seaside too many times to count, (one of the past constants in Jellal's life was that his mother and father had business with noteworthy people, and it had become apparent that a good portion of important people favored secluded beaches) and at once realizes how dire his predicament is. Once the ships leave the mainland with him inside, there's no chance of escape- bottom-line.

_Escape_. It then hits Jellal that he's no free man.

For all this time, his capture has meant nothing to him—the roughhousing from the guards, the constant abuse; because _Mavis_, the noble blood of the Fernandes family is running through his veins.

But really, amongst chains of the enslaved, blood is nothing.

Jellal is not willing, though, to just give up. Oh, _nononono_. He's getting out of this mess.

So maybe it is a good thing, his pride, because that's how he slips out of the chains of enslavement and into the phantom chains of the free.

:::

The boy's smaller than Jellal and he's crying harder than anyone else in the prison hold. His breath comes in shuddering, shaking sobs and tears soak through the collar of his shirt clean. The ship is reeling, yes, but Jellal fears that this yellow-haired boy will tip the boat into the watery oblivions of the sea before any raging storm.

The others (the captured) offer no sympathy, too wrapped up in their own plights. Masked men, identities a mystery, had spoken of their destinations out of pure malice, (the unknown hell they would soon bitterly, with anguish, call _home_), their doomed fates, how twisted their personalities would soon become.

"Other than through death, no one has ever escaped the Tower," one man had informed, barring his jagged, yellowed teeth through his grotesque mask.

_Death_.

The blow which should render Jellal to a puddle of tears doesn't come. It's simply because there is this subtle ideology that's ingrained into his head: Jellal's too important, thus he can not die.

Because despite everything, he's still a child- an _innocent_ child- and a sense of false invincibility is coupled along with it. Of course there's more to it. One quality that made Jellal, _Jellal_, was courage. It's the type that's rational, neither reckless or idiotic.

However, there are others; others in the prison hold who are not sheltered from death and loss, others who can't handle the idea as while the reality of captivity. Like the yellow-haired boy who's wailing for his mother, and before Jellal can crawl up to him, someone beats him to it.

"Hey, boy! Yeah, that's right, you who's crying a sixth ocean!" A scowl cuts clear across a wizened man's face. He's one of the wise few who are trying to sleep. "You'll never see her again if you keep up this act."

Heads turn in earnest. Everyone's desperate for a distraction.

"How...do...you k-know?" the little boy chokes out, hiccupping. He stifles another sob behind a hand.

"You familiar with farm animals, boy?" It's a bad time; many are poor, staggering under the weight of debts and the threats of raids. The children are being sent to the distant countryside by the storm, where it should be safe. But it's not safe. Nowhere is truly safe.

Mystified, he nods. Tear tracks plow clear lines against his tan, unwashed skin. "What of them?" he whispers.

"When a drove of cattle are birthed, tell me, what happens to the weak? To the frail and sickly?"

"I-I don't know... I've never thought about it before."

The old man waits a moment, allowing tension to settle.

"They cull 'em," he finally says, voice hoarse and hushed. "If a cow cannot perform its task to its master's satisfaction, it's either sold or slaughtered. In your case—_our_ case, is death."

"But how can you give up like that?" Jellal speaks up, well-aware of the multitude of eyes that seemed to ask the very same question.

"I'm not giving up, youngster. I am giving the boy—you all, advice." A wretched sigh. "Perhaps one day you will see your mother again; but heed well, you must forge through tomorrow and the long days afterwards." Straggly gray hair swings to and fro with his head and then he rolled over, back facing everyone. He doesn't say a word after, and everyone assumes that the astute man has succumbed to sleep.

There's murmuring afterwards, heads mulling over the man's words. The talking begins small, then swells until cliques form and discussions with purpose begin. As tentative hands join together, Jellal discerns that he can't survive alone. But no one's reaching out to the likes of him; Jellal's considerably smaller in comparison to the men and women (teenagers, but to Jellal, they may as well be adults) who are scattered on the ground.

For a moment, Jellal considers waking the old man, but dismisses the thought as it comes to him. He's ancient, and evidently needs his rest. Jellal can talk to him later if needed. Approuaching the others was possible, but the age gap's a bit conflicting. This leaves the yellow-haired boy.

He's alone, too.

"Hey." Jellal dragged his aching body adjacent from him. "My name's Jellal."

"Hi, I'm Sho..." Sho stares at him, confusion shadowing fear.

"Do you plan on surviving, Sho?"

They stare at each other for a long time, so long in fact that awkwardness creeps and Jellal wonders if it's a mistake to approach him.

"I'll try..." Sho finally says.

"That's good." Jellal smiles broadly, feeling his lips cracking, dehydration getting the best of him. "Because if we plan on getting out of this mess alive, we'll need allies. So, friends?"

Sho wipes his running nose on his shoulder. He hiccups once, twice. Jellal can tell that Sho's trying to hold back his tears. He nods, eyes shining with tears and blinking them back. "Friends." They shake hands on it.

Eventually, everyone is soothed by new friendships and the lulling, almost soothing rocking of the boat.

Then the ship docks, and the hell they were promised becomes too real.

:::

The strips of stingy red and gruesome purple contrasts sharply against the skin of Jellal's back. He's limp and almost appears boneless as a nameless man hurls him across the cell grounds. Jellal rolls and bounces, moaning, the world blurring into gray.

Jellal knows even without looking that the prisoners freeze, visibly shaking, and the ground is where he stays. His lashed back sears with unquenchable flames, and the ground is an electrifying contrast in temperature. It's freezing, everything burning hot and red, but most of all, it _hurt_.

"_Damn you all_," Jellal hisses furiously, spittle flying between his teeth. "I'll kill you all for this, one day. I swear it." The guards don't hear him over their uproarious laughter and it's a good at thing, too. Another shipment of slaves is arriving next morning. One won't be missed with the addition of hundreds.

"Jellal! Jellal!" Sho scrambles up, and attempts to drag Jellal's limp form to a secluded corner; he does it once he was sure that the guards makes their leave. Jellal groans as the uneven stone dig into his exposed chest. "Are you all right?"

_No, I'm not all right. Do I _look_ all right? _It takes all of Jellal's will power not to snap. Sho's fragile, he reminds himself.

"Yeah...just fine..."

_Damn the world, why _me_..._

"Oh, oh, good." Sho's face lights up, convinced, because the boy holds on to an everlasting faith that Jellal can handle _anything_. Tortured to the brink of death? Who cares? He's _fine_, because he's _Jellal Fernandes_.

_You're not supposed to believe me. _Don't_ believe me._

He believes him.

"I was so worried when they took you away, Millianna and Grandpa Rob, too. Right now, they won't be able to see you, because they haven't come back, yet." He paused. "But I'm not worried anymore, because Jellal, you're here!" He beamed.

_No, you should worry about it because nothing really changes when I'm around. I just lie. Lie, lie, and lie. Maybe you and Millianna can't see it, but it's true: that's the damn, clear-cut truth. _

These are the dark days.

:::

It's impossible.

But it's happening, so maybe you can call it improbable. The Tower is supposed to twist you into something unrecognizable; the prolonged captivity and the harsh conditions are the true evil. It sways personalities; once chipper, optimistic minds turn pessimistic, dark. Brawling, snapping, bickering that has no purpose ensue.

Nothing can be nurtured to fruition here, nothing but darkness. And when it occurs, it's extraordinary- maybe even the highest point of the century, or maybe not, but it _is _in Jellal's life.

It begins with one girl with no last name- no sense of belonging.

Jellal can't imagine it- _no last name_, what is the world coming to? He thinks it's sad. And despite Wally Buchanan's disapproving grumbling, he names her.

"Scarlet... It's the color of your hair," he says, smiling a smile that his face hasn't genuinely felt for a long time. "That way, I'll never forget it!"

(It's unintentional, but from that point on, she's _his _now.)

When he saw that smile of hers, something begun growing in his heart; it was something small, (_living_) its head pushing headily against the rocky, course (_dead_) grounds of the Tower of Heaven.

"Erza..._Scarlet_." A beat and, "I...I _like_ it." Jellal's heart swells; he doesn't hear Wally's groans or feel Simon's sharp gaze. "Erza..._Scarlet_."

She's small, she's delicate, and she smiles, and he finds himself smiling back. There are hundreds- _thousands_- of occasions where Jellal is looked to by his friends for comfort and words of warmth. That particular torch shouldn't be his to bear (remember, he's just a child), but there were turns of events and situations that were well beyond anyone's control.

Events that will further ricochet into pure pandemonium- through staggering temptations and irrational decisions, through plunging losses and compensating gains. They'll change: the boy and girl from the Tower will become no more. Today, their relationship is simple. Easy and comprehensible, but then it will grow. It'll grow to maybe something more, then into something too complicated for a real label. This's what the future holds. And one day, _one day_, they'll look back and wonder what went wrong, and the possibilities of a future relationship is what they will heavily question.

But for now, they're still the boy and girl from the Tower; and in the entangled future, they'll just have to placate themselves with the matter of ending it first- _ending it all_ and plunging the lands of Fiore with their individual ideals of the world.

Then, whatever position they may be in- a queen of darkness chained at his feet, a prisoner of light to the undergrounds- they'll talk.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** hi! :) I'm new to the FT ff scene, but I'll try my best! so aha beware of occness (which is my biggest nightmare. really)

and the chap? a bit dark? yeahh, but hey, this is jerza. and it will lighten up considerably. I promise. :) oh! and fyi, this is an interconnected story of drabbles/oneshots/and hey, maybe even a character sketch or two. (basically no back to back, event by event chaps) but edifice definitely tells a story with a distinguishable plot. style, genre, length may vary with each update, (or maybe not hahaha) just to keep things fresh.

anyways, thanks for reading and drop a review if you like! :D


	2. Crocus

arc i: camaraderie

**CROCUS**

* * *

><p>They materialize from nowhere, in the wee hours of the morning when the sky is still dark with gloom and the pitter-patter of glimmering celestial bodies dot the sky. And they charge, brandishing weapons- dark cloaks swirling at their feet- and worse: magic thrumming at their fingertips.<p>

"_KILL ALL THE ADULTS, ENSLAVE THE KIDS_!"

Pandemonium.

Crazed, the villagers scatter like ants, placing self-preservation above everything. Blustering fire licks the air, smoke and fire swallowing everything in their path. It's getting hard to think- brains all muddling because of the bitter miasma.

"_B-but what about you_?"

There's a terrible wailing for mothers and fathers, the newly dead.

"_I'll be fine_."

"_Stay here-_"

"_There's not enough room_..."

_"I SAID ENSLAVE THE KIDS, YOU MORON, NOT SLIT THEIR THROATS!"_

One smile and frantic, hurrying movements.

"_Live on_."

A thump and a dying "wait!" at the tip of a girl's tongue.

It's a nightmare, it _has_ to be. Was it just last night when the villagers all congregated together, toasting- apple cider for the little kids, and rum for the adults- in celebration for a successful harvest?

One foot in front of the other. A knife sticking out of a guy's back, blood soaking his shirt dark crimson. She _knows_ him. _Kami_, she knows everyone in the village.

_Simon, oh _please_ be safe..._

Was it just a day ago when she and Simon raced across the dandelion fields, shirking work...?

Don't look.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

_Breathe_.

Then something permanent and indescribably final wrenches round her forearm, and she screams.

"Little girl..." This man, no, this monster, he's going to-

She gags.

Why is it getting harder to breathe, and what's this strange pervading darkness, and oh _nononono_- go away, please, oh Kami, _please_-

* * *

><p>Erza wakes up gasping, a terrible scream lodged hard in her throat and a phantom figure towering over her with horrible clarity. Once her breathing evens out, she registers her aching limbs, her stomach crawling with hunger, and her goosebump-wracked body. She presses her sorry excuse for a blanket against her chest for warmth, the stone beneath her burning with cold.<p>

The conditions are worse by the hundredfold than Erza's past home in Rosemary. Rosemary... The thought of her desecrated village sends her stomach plunging.

Now she wants to sleep again; fall so hard and deep into unconsciousness that she'll forget _everything_ that has occurred in the past few days. Rosemary's demise. The murders. The enslavement. Erza squeezes her eyes shut, biting her lip.

Kagura.

_Is she alive?_ _Did they get her, too? _It's a dreaded topic between Erza and Simon, one who doesn't dare approach, the other stuck in a maddening limbo wondering by the minuscule chance that his sister may possibly be alive and free.

Tears threaten to spill but Erza pushes against the urge, swallowing hard. An unspoken but firm "lights out" is called once the sun hits the horizon. People who're in the same situation as herself- _slaves_- won't take too kindly to her waking them, Erza reminds herself.

The slaves don't take too kindly to anything, Erza learnt that day. From the moment she stepped onto the island's rocky shore, she had witnessed a small skirmish between two men fighting over a loaf of bread that was marginally bigger than the latter's.

It had been a terrible shock. True, food was precious, (Rosemary had been the type of village that wasn't bothered to be plotted on maps) but no one in the community had fought over something so trivial as a slightly bigger share.

A sudden shifting calls to the redhead's attention. Erza blinks, sitting up slightly. Simon's awake, more than likely for the same reasons, and his jumpy dark eyes meet her own.

"Can't sleep?"

"Yeah..." Simon averts his eyes. "Did I wake you up?" he asks words all mushing together. Erza tries not to stare at his eyes shiny with unshed tears; she's sure hers look the same way.

"No." Erza smiles, albeit weakly. "I can't sleep, either."

A pause. And with a small, "_Erza_, I..." Simon's fingers slide forward with questionable intentions until-

"The first night is always the worst," an unexpected voice says out of the gloom. Simon and Erza both jump; Simon's hand retreat, as if burnt.

Erza sits up fully, and tucks her hair behind her ears. Curious, she searches for the source of the voice. She's under the impression that sleep is a luxury in the Tower of Heaven.

Her eyes widens, registering electric blue hair and sunshine-gold eyes. He's the boy who had named her Scarlet not more than a few hours prior.

Jellal. Jellal Fernandes. His name hits her almost immediately. She'll never forget him, even if she tries.

His head pops up from the row of sleeping bodies and much to her curiosity, he pads over and lays down on Erza's empty side- not before nudging Sho's head off his shoulder and cushioning it over a tattered blanket.

"Jellal," Erza acknowledges, eyes still round, "you're awake, too?" She rolls to face him and his presence grants her immediate warmth.

"I couldn't get to sleep with you two yapping."

Erza flushes, heat creeping to her cheeks; she fails to sniff out the teasing edge to his voice. "I-I'm-I mean, I didn't mean to distur-"

"I'm kidding." Jellal cracks a smile, looking unperturbed by her awkwardness. "I've always had hard times sleeping; it's nothing out of the ordinary, really."

The wind whistles hard and ominous through the prison bars, ruffling their hair. Somehow, Erza and Simon don't wonder why.

"So...where're you guys from?"

"Rosemary Village."

"Never heard of it," Jellal replies jovially, folding his arms beneath his head. He stares up at the dark stone with the intensity of stargazing.

"You wouldn't have. It's- I mean was, really small." Erza blinks hard and follows Jellal's gaze. As hard as she looks, she can't see what Jellal's seeing, that mysterious _something_ that he's living and smiling for. All she registers is black, a scary black. She can't see _anything_.

"What about you?" Erza says a little too fast.

Jellal's face twists thoughtfully. "I'm not exactly sure, but we lived in a house that we didn't really live in." Jellal laughs, benevolent. Suddenly, Erza's eyes don't feel so heavy with tears as before. "My family and I moved around a lot."

"Where'd you guys go?" Erza sneaks curious little glances at him. _How can he _talk_ like that?_ So easily, so carefree.

"All over Fiore. Big cities like Era and Hargeon. And beaches. Lots and lots of beaches. We even visited the capital a few times."

He flicks his gaze toward Erza, as if waiting for some sort of grand reaction. She stares back, expression blank. "You know, Crocus."

_Is Crocus some sort of big deal?_ Erza thinks hard. The name doesn't give much light, but wishy-washy memories of villagers muttering about dangerous times, puppet kings, and cursing the Flower Blooming Capital come to mind. "I think I've heard of it before, but I don't know anything about it."

"I'll tell you, then." He pauses, searching for the right words. "It's so big, you can get lost. The buildings are tall- at the highest floor, you feel like you can touch the sky- and the people, well there're so many, everywhere, too- in the marketplaces, the streets, round the castle..."

"A castle..." she echoes unbelievingly, excitement superimposing her situation. "There's a _castle_ in Crocus? Like where kings and queens live in?"

"You got it," Jellal says, looking pleased by her reaction. "Its name is Mercurius. I've never been inside, but it looks huge from the outside. Gold, too, and purple."

There's something about his voice, the way he talks... No, that's not it, there's something about _Jellal _himself.

"Anyways, you'll like it a lot, that's for sure." He pauses. "All girls, do," Jellal adds, smiling as if they were sharing a secret, "whether they like to admit it or not."

...and Erza can't pinpoint it _exactly_, but there's something so incredibly, as well as frustratingly _irresistible_ about him.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Jellal nods. "Because, it isn't the people or the castle, it's the _flowers_. They're more of them than people, and in every color you can imagine, too- purple, yellow, white, pink, orange, blue, and of course, scarlet." There, Erza feels a slight tugging sensation from her scalp, and it dawns on her that he's playing with her hair again. Without permission. She really ought to scold him: that pawing at someone's hair you barely know is a clear _no_. But despite herself, Erza blushes- _again_. And for once, she's glad for the night and the darkness that accompanies it.

"Like your hair, Erza," Jellal finalizes, slapping the redhead back to reality, and she watches as his hand falls away.

Just this once, Erza promises herself, she lets the moment pass in peace. She'll later find that she allows Jellal to get away with a _lot_ of things.

"That sounds..." Her voice trickles into something along the lines of a wistful silence. A small pang resonates through her chest; she's missing- though without knowledge- his comforting touch already.

"Amazing, right?" Jellal's lips quirk up earnestly, amiably. "So I figure that once we're free, I'll take you there."

* * *

><p>AN: Hey again. I was originally gonna make this a super duper long chapter and feature the majority of the tower years here. but then i realized i should just take it nice and slow. stop and sniff the roses, and all. but it won't be ridiculously long. lol and gosh did anyone notice simon kinda disappeared? xD I always figured simon always stood off to the side when erza and jellal chatted

thanks for reading and feedback/concrit is appreciated.

:::

uniza: thanks! and yup, I wholeheartedly agree with you! their meeting is definitely bittersweet. adorbs but under the worst. circumstances. ever. but that's what I suppose what makes jerza such an awesome pairing anyhow

maya shiro: I'm glad you liked it!:)


	3. In the Blink of an Eye

A/n: I wrote this chapter in past tense as an experiment. Tell me please if you find incorrect tenses floating around. xp Thanks!

(*)This chapter is set seven months or so after the previous chapter.

* * *

><p>IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Why couldn't he save her?"<em>

_. _

Damn the slave drivers, the world, everything.

One second they had been so close- so close that he could practically _taste_ the freedom.

Then it was all over. They had placed their best effort into the escape; hadn't they meticulously plotted out every detail down to the thread? But nothing mattered in the end, because they were hopelessly surrounded. The slave drivers had taken Erza in compensation for their- no, _Jellal's_ error, and that was that.

It was all his fault and the gaping loss of Erza left him numb. If he wasn't so weak...

The guards kept their word. Well, almost. After flinging aside Sho, Simon, Wally, and Millianna, one of them lifted Jellal by the collar of his shirt, clearing a foot or two beneath the boy and cackled, "Your little girlfriend's really gonna get it, now; so maybe, _maybe_, if you beg on your hands and knees we'll—"

_Mistake_.

Jellal punched the Tower guard so hard that his face was slapped back and his nose cracked beneath the force. Blood spouted. Someone young, Jellal figured, screamed (he had his bets on Sho). Hissing and spitting out curses, bullish hands released Jellal and said boy falls unceremoniously to his feet, to only scramble back up.

It had been their intentions from the very beginning. Of course it was. They had taken Erza because of _him_. The whole purpose of the discipline room is to break people the Tower could not. The guards had realized it wouldn't work on Jellal. So they had taken _her_ instead, knowing—

Tears of rage pricked needles into his eyes

Damn it. He really had screwed up.

But there was someone else who was at more fault than he was. Someone—or more accurately, a group of people who—

"Why, you little brat—" the slave driver began, face contorting with almost maniacal anger.

He didn't get to finish.

"Out of my way."

A blur of cerulean, and a heavy _smack_! of skin against stone later, the guard was knocked out, body slumped unnaturally on the ground. A line of blood steadily ran down the length of his forehead.

Dead silence.

Someone piped up with a cheer in the background but it was immediately squashed underfoot when Jellal turned around. Everyone reeled back at the ice-cold, merciless expression on Jellal's face and simultaneously, they backpedaled.

Amongst the crowd pressed against the wall, Sho could honestly had said that he couldn't help but feel a little frightened of Jellal at that moment. In all of his time with the blue-haired boy, he'd never witnessed _this_ side of him. This furious, hate-driven Jellal.

And it was all because of Erza. Sho gulped. Wally had shared his speculations with him but he didn't realize until now that Jellal's feelings ran _this_ deep.

Kami.

Jellal felt everyone's shocked eyes on him, probably because the fact that a _boy_ had tossed a hulking man of greater mass and weight into a wall and _knocked him unconscious_. To be perfectly frank, Jellal couldn't understand it either but it was not priority because-

Jellal swallowed hard, a renewed sense of urgency overcoming him. Erza could be_ dying_, right now. Every second counted. And with that terrible thought in mind, Jellal turned to what he believed to be as the direction of the discipline room.

"Jellal. Wait." The voice of an elder man sounded and the blue-haired boy jerked his head up.

Quickly, the crowd parted for him. Rob-ojiisan released a ragged breath, every exhale a countdown to his inevitable, forthcoming passing. A little longer, Rob pleaded, eyes slightly watering at the excruciating pain arcing down his back.

Impatient, Jellal cleared his throat. "Yes?"

Rob watched this incredibly brave, young boy—so, so _young _stand before him, and he offered a kind smile. Despite lacking the guild mark, this boy had Fairy Tail grit to the bone, and more. And Rob had this instinctive feeling that his former Master Purehito would wholeheartedly approve.

That aside, Rob could feel this sudden spike in pressure that was perpetually hanging over Jellal, the feel miming of a trapped animal. It was of the magical sort. Rob knew the boy had ludicrously powerful mages for parents, (hell, practically everyone knew when they got a whiff of his surname) but magic was not genetic and Rob wondered if Jellal knew he had the spark himself.

And this particular piece of information was at the very tip of the man's tongue. Hesitant, Rob weighed his chances. Magic was a fickle thing that depended on emotions more than anything- and Jellal was definitely high on emotions today.

Because magic, when uncontrolled, could lead to devastating results.

On the other hand...

Jellal was a bright boy. He could juggle whatever that was thrown at him with relative ease. Additionally, people talked and it would do no good if the slave drivers, or even the slaves found out that Jellal was a member of one of the former esteemed families in Fiore.

So he settled with uttering three words that were very Fairy Tail, and what made him _feel_ like a member of Fairy Tail more than ever.

"We're with you."

* * *

><p>"Erza, thank goodness!"<p>

At the sound of his voice, a small smile lifted at the corner of her lips. Jellal was here.

She was going to be all right.

Her right eye throbbed incessantly as Jellal turned her over onto her back. The smile vanished as she weakly squirmed in his arms, because no- no- _no_, she didn't want him to _see_... She tried to look away, turn her face to the side, anything, but he saw anyways.

_"DAMN IT!"_

His anguished cry rang sharply throughout the discipline room.

_It's okay_, she wanted to tell him as he somberly slung her arm round his shoulder. _It_'_s all right._ You're_ here._ But her throat was dry as the dust beneath their feet, all she could manage to do was will her battered limbs to cooperate and unsteadily lean against the boy.

Their pace was slow and along the way, they passed the unconscious bodies of slave drivers and those horrible, vicious coral-colored creatures.

One, two, three, four...

Erza quickly lost count.

Did he take them all out himself?

"H-how?" she murmured, voicing her query.

He didn't answer her question and instead said, with a grim urgency in his tone, "There's no going back now. We have to fight."

What he had said became the truth itself.

The moment the slave drivers caught up and separated them once more, Erza knew there won't be going back. Because with a terrible certainty, Erza discerned that if she does not act, the slave drivers would torture the blue-haired boy beyond recognition (even worse than they had done to her, because they _knew _Jellal was the real instigator of the escape). But they wouldn't be happy with a few lashes, or even with the maiming of an eye.

They were going to kill him.

"Where's Jellal?" someone asked.

Erza, on the ground of their cell, didn't reply.

_Jellal. _

_Jellal._

_Jellal. _

The whisper of "they must have taken him as replacement" grew into shouts, _no-_ screams in her ears, and a dormant force that even she wasn't aware of rose within her and exploded. What she had always thought of as perennial bars and indomitable slave drivers were blown backwards from the force.

Everyone turned their heads at the sudden commotion.

"Could it be...?"

"Erza...?" someone began, incredulous.

"Even if we obey them, or run away from them, we will never be free! We have no choice but to fight for our freedom! Stand up and fight!"

People stared, and mouths fell open. _Where did _that_ come from? _was echoing in everyone's, including the slave driver's heads. Erza herself was equally stunned when the words ripped away from her mouth. She was never the leader. It had always been Jellal, and she had always been content with it. But circumstances changed and along with not fighting, being weak was no longer an option.

Everything quickly spiraled into chaos from there. But the two opposing sides of the uprising were unmistakable.

One of the slave drivers roared, "IT'S A REVOLT!" thus alerting his comrades, but he was quickly knocked out/killed, Erza couldn't tell.

The slaves, led by herself (a strange, desperate, strong version of herself) began to storm section by section, increasing their number by releasing everyone who was held captive, taking slavers out when they have the chance. Hundreds of slaves began to rise up, and the thought passed through Erza's mind that _this might actually work_.

By the time this was all over, she could be sailing away from this horrible place, with Sho, Wally, Simon, Millianna, Rob-ojiisan, and Jellal by her side.

_Jellal_.

Jellal. Jellal. Jellal. The slave drivers wouldn't torture him during an uprising, would they?

Head occupied with her troubled thoughts, she jumped when a voice shouted out a warning.

Thanks goodness for that, Erza thought as she whipped round and slammed the butt of her sword against one of the slave drivers. He went down with a moan, and the redhead didn't feel sorry, just disgusted. You lot deserve it, she thought as she unabashedly slashed away yet another obstacle in her path.

She tried not to think about what they might have done to Jellal, which inevitably reminded her of her eye. It was difficult to imagine Jellal broken and despairing for any reason. The blue-haired boy had always had self-control tightly reigned in his fist and a cool composure in the other. But most of all, he was always physically and mentally strong, especially so for someone of his age.

"The guard is too tight here!" Wally growled to no one in particular. Not too far away, Erza watched Millianna bandaged Sho's arm. Anxiety churned violently in her stomach.

"But we have to hurry up and save Jellal..." Miserable, her gaze lowered. She was suddenly exhausted, and her entire body felt like it was injected with lead.

"Erza! Are you in love with Jellal?" Simon asked.

At those words, the planet's rotation seemed to slow down exponentially. As heat rose to her cheeks, the battle fell away into the drab of the background.

_What am I saying?_ Impatient, Simon awaited a reply. He was not a fool, at least he hoped he wasn't one. Did it make him an idiot if he was barking up a (nearly) occupied tree?

Meanwhile, Erza stuttered inwardly. L-love?! Oh sure, she cared for Jellal, but _love_?! Thought processes shutting down by the second, she stared at the ground. She felt like she was on fire. A very uncomfortable fire that had her insides writhing like snakes.

Interested, Millianna, Sho, and Wally took the moment to turn and stare.

Simon witnessed an embarrassed flush overwhelm Erza's cheeks. Her face was almost the exact hue of her hair. _He_ only does this to her, Simon thought, and a dangerous feeling, jealousy more than anything, threatened to swallow him whole.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" she finally said, reverie shattered. She paused, squirming and averting eye contact. No one spoke. "Now is not the time to..." She trailed off, still not looking at him. She hoped he would, as horrible as it sounded, to shut up.

"Because," he began, heat creeping up to _his_ cheeks.

_Oh no._

Erza resisted the urge to run. Her friendship with Simon, maybe even Jellal, would never be the same after this. So she wished for anyone, anything, to interrupt this moment which would definitely lead to unwelcome heartbreaks and confusion and-

"I've always-"

Her wish was granted and time hurtled forward.

Another warning was yelled, and Erza watched as Simon, stupefied, was too late to react.

"_SIMON_!" Erza screamed.

But it was too late. Along with being thrown back from the brunt force of the explosion, the lower portion of his face was ripped off in the blink of an eye.

* * *

><p>This was verily, without a doubt, hell. With a keen whistle, the whip lashed out again, and Jellal sucked in a ragged breath. Hair fell over his eyes as another strike landed somewhere along his torso. He was not sure, but what felt like blood trickled from the lashed areas. Bile rose up in his throat, and Jellal pinned down the very tempting urge to throw up.<p>

He hated them. And their nonexistent god. Something ugly spawned in his heart as he blearily watched the whip rise and fall and then...stop?

No.

Beneath his feet, an inky purple magic circle swelled and the too familiar bolts of pain arc up his body, sending him into a bout of spasms. He grinded his teeth, determined not to utter a sound.

Once the pain ebbed away to a dull throb and the crackle of magical energy dissipated, Jellal, panted heavily; weakened, he slacked forward against the taunt rope that dug into his wrists and ankles.

Everything hurt.

The bastards were talking again, about what now? The R-system, and how it can revive their god. How they will all be taken up into heaven in the dawn of the finished Tower.

More bullshit and more lashes and the sectioned off ground beneath his feet lit up again, and again, and again.

When the slave drivers finally left to attend to what? (a smirk curled his lips upwards)- an uprising. He wasn't too surprised. And he wouldn't be particularly stunned if he later found out that it was Erza behind it all. She may not know it, but she was strong under that seemingly diaphanous facade.

Push her too far and...

He could hear the roar of a thousand, maybe more human voices, indistinguishable but united. Explosions sent the walls trembling every so often.

_Erza. _

Jellal shut his eyes, the feeling of helplessness finally sinking in. He hated that feeling, even more than the slave drivers. Erza and the others might think of him as strong, but in reality, he was no mightier than them. All thoughts of Erza fled, and the pure uncertainty of his situation and the way he was at his most weak all but rose.

He gritted his teeth, the ropes still searing into his skin, preventing his escape.

_If only..._

* * *

><p>Muttering under her breath, the mage sowed seeds of hate and promises of power into the child's heart. From the shadows, a man codenamed Brain cast an impassive glance to the victim of the person's possession magic: Jellal Fernandes. He had travelled to collect the boy, as he had done with the others, but had found that an unknown entity was doing the work for him. It was almost too perfect.<p>

Bit by bit, with every anguished scream, Brain could feel the Fernandes boy giving in. When cast correctly, possession magic was extremely difficult to resist, even more so when the victim was at their most weakest. The caster would whisper (usually false) promises of the victim's greatest wishes, placing it on a silver platter, hissing that _it can all be yours if you just_ _give in to me._

What came next greatly surprised Brain. The revolt was over, that much was obvious. The slaves had successfully seized the defeated cult's ships, and were preparing to sail away from the root of their confinement at the very moment. Some ships had already dispatched to various parts of the world. Thus, it was most logical to think that Jellal Fernandes had been forgotten.

But he was not alone.

Brain's eyes widened, and around the same time, the girl cursed, and the apparition of her possession magic retreated with a hiss.

_"Damn it!"_

* * *

><p>"Jellal!"<p>

A voice, but different. Familiar. It echoed with an aura of kindness. The frantic pitter-patter of bare feet slapping against the ground quickly faded to inaudible taps once the voice spoke up again.

_You _will_ receive my power, Jellal... _the voice vowed. _And I _will_ have you._ The black fog, purple in some places rushed forward and the hold round his neck tightened. Hoarsely, he gasped for breath, and his wrists burned as they attempted to break free of the rope that bound him to the pole. As spots danced across his vision, something coursed through his veins and shuddered through his body. And for a moment, Jellal felt as if he had the world at his fingertips.

The warmth disappeared completely.

He had called himself Zeref. Alone and beaten, left bound haplessly to a pole, he had appeared before Jellal at what he knew as his weakest moment, offering imaginable power. It was temptation at its finest.

"Jellal!"

The other voice again. Hands on his face. Warm.

He didn't let go, and clung to the warmth.

His eyes shot open, gasping. For a while, he stared up at nothing, unseeing.

"_JELLAL_!"

Finally, he felt the presence of Zeref retreat with a hiss of frustration and the black pressure that was gnawing at his soul released its fangs. In its malevolent wake, it left foul, sticky fingerprints that radiated hatred in his soul.

_Damn it!_

Jellal wheezed as another sort of darkness began to close in on him. But now that he could think with more clarity, Jellal realized that Zeref's voice was interlaced with something that can only be called as feminine.

What...?

* * *

><p>He wouldn't wake up.<p>

Erza had found him unconscious, his wrists and ankles bleeding and lacerated from struggle. The state she had found him mirrored her fears exactly. Her fingers picked at the knots. It took a while, but when

Limp and head lolling over her shoulder, Erza with much care, set him on the ground. "J-Jellal?" Distraught, she shook his shoulders and pressed her hands over his cheeks.

He was warm and breathing but why-

On some odd instinct, she slapped him hard against the cheek. Naturally, his head snapped back and he gave a quiet groan. But Erza failed to notice and now borderline hysteric, she slapped him again. "Jellal!" The redhead raised her hand. "_Wake- up- Jell-_!"

In hindsight, maybe if she listened a little harder for that tell-tale groan of well, _life_, she wouldn't have slapped him so many times.

Because some time between "up" and "Jell" he clumsily caught her wrist to what he dazedly thought as a practical joke. (Wally, in particular was fond of his jokes.) After all, he did _just_ return to consciousness. So naturally, Jellal did what he always did when Wally provoked him with such attack:

He tightened his hold on what he believed to be Wally's (a bit bewildered, Jellal registered that something's a bit off: Wally's wrist was questionably slender and _feminine_, today) wrist and pulled down sharply. And thus, taken by surprise, Erza Scarlet fell face forward onto the boy's chest with a little "_oof_!"

* * *

><p>Pushing aside the thought of the Fernandes boy for a second, he knew that shade of her hair, the voice, though it was slightly different due to the passage of time. Brain could not remember all the lives he ruined, (and nor did he particularly care) but after all, she had been a special case. Ultear Milkovich who was known to few as the deceased-<p>

"Daughter of Ur."

She spun on her heel, eyes flashing and furious. "_You._" A pause and voice oozing of disgust, she sneered, albeit a bit weakly. "And don't call me that!"

He merely smirked.

She looked as if she was in her early teens. When Brain first met her, she had barely come up to mid-thigh. Her previous bob of hair had lengthened and was now past her shoulders, pulled up in bunches by white ribbons that contrasted nicely with her hair pitch black hair. But it was her eyes that changed the most. Long gone were the pleading eyes of a broken child who had cried calling for her mother. In her place was a dark soul craving vengeance.

Hades had clearly did his work well.

A sudden gust of wind blasted through the open window, sending Brain's hair flying. It prompted him to remember his mission, Ultear Milkovich or no.

"I'll be taking over from here."

* * *

><p>Once the other slaves had tired of hearing the exact scene and its accompanying pieces of dialogue ("dandy!") replay over and over on the lacrima-television, Wally reluctantly powers it down. They eventually settle with taking care of Simon, or more like staring at Simon, who is still unconscious.<p>

Millianna poked the boy's bandaged cheek with a curious finger. He didn't as much twitch. "Simon's not moving," she proclaimed unnecessarily.

Wally shot the lacrima-television a longing look before replying, "Of course he's not. He's _unconscious_."

A sudden, small moan sounded throughout the room.

"Simon!" Millianna perked up. They both rush to his thrashing side.

"It's all right, Simon! It's just us...Wally and Millianna" Wally pushed him back down on the cot. "We kicked their asses -" Wally punched the air victoriously "-and- "

"_Erza_!" Simon tried to sit up, but let out a muffled yelp when he found that his injuries prevented it. Crazed, his eyes flicked across the room. There were other cots set up neatly, resembling the one he was occupying. On the far side of the wall, there was a propped opened porthole that gifted the viewer of an unbroken stretch of blue. The sky. Now and then, the ocean breeze drifted inside.

"Where is she? Where are we?" Wally had to press his ear against boy's mouth to hear his voice. Simon paused for a shaky breath, and absentmindedly reached out to touch the rough texture of the cloth. "What happened?" he pretty much demanded.

Ignored, Wally muttered a dejected, "Figures," before rubbing the back of his head. He plopped back onto his heels.

Millianna, who'd always had good hearing, piped up in his stead and chirps, "Ahh...Er-chan went to go save Jellal!" Ignorant, the brunette bounced in place, delighted, glad that Simon had finally awakened. At first the boy wouldn't stop bleeding and how pale he'd become became a major concern.

Simon suddenly shrunk back into the cocoon of his bedding like a deflated balloon. Millianna, always quick to respond, reassured him, "She'll be back soon."

It didn't help much.

"We're on one of their boats," Wally added helpfully, "and the rebellion is over."

"Is she all right?"

"'Course she is. She's _Erza_." Well. Last time they'd seen her, all she had been thinking about was JellalJellalJellalJellal and she had left alone to rescue him, which was definitely worrisome. But Wally wasn't going to tell him that; he knew that their current priority went to Simon's physical, as well as emotional recovery. "Speaking of which, how are _you_?"

"Me?" Distant, Simon seemed startled by the question. "I'm fine."

* * *

><p>"Sorry!" they said together, thoroughly flustered.<p>

They were at such close proximity that it made Erza blush furiously. The hand on her wrist served as a burning reminder. Suddenly, he groaned, and Erza remembered that she wasn't the lightest, and on top of that, his injuries... With another apology, the redhead attempted to scrabble backwards to give him more space.

She met his gaze questioningly.

"I-um. Ah...I-" He quickly looked away and released Erza's wrist. Jellal pressed his hot cheek (still tingling slightly from Erza's frantic attempts to awaken him) against the cold stone. He was never the one to stutter. That was _Erza's_ line. But he could blame that it more than likely had something to do with the pretty girl on his chest when he awakened. What he next realized was that he wouldn't mind waking up like that every day.

Wait, _what_?

Jellal laughed hoarsely to shake off the thought and the embarrassment. Erza smiled at him kindly, her good eye shining. He winced and self-loathing rushed into his being. If he had been a little faster, a little stronger he could have...

"Let's go, Jellal," she said, interrupting his train of thought. "Sho and the others are waiting."

He blinked before answering. A smile unconsciously curled his lips upward as Erza helped him up. "Yeah."

Getting stronger could wait.

* * *

><p>When a man tried to cut the rope that was tethering the ship to shore, Sho stopped him.<p>

"I have to wait for Onii-chan and Nii-san!" Sho said, if that explained everything, straining his eyes for a red and blue blob. Simon was still knocked out cold belowdeck and the last time he'd seen Wally and Millianna, they were messing around with their new discovery: the lacrima-television.

"Who, now?" Thank goodness the man was willing to listen.

"Jellal and Erza." Uneasy, Sho's eyes darted back to the smoky, desecrated entrance of the Tower. "Nii-san went to go rescue Onii-chan from the discipline room. She promised she'll be back with him real soon."

A look of understanding overcame his face. He knew exactly who this yellow-haired boy was talking about. But... "We need to set sail."

"You can't. I mean, Nii-san _promised_."

The guy looked down at the child nervously. He cleared his throat, not certain about how to break the news to him. "Listen up, kid. I used to be a mage."

"Bu-"

"Yeah. I know, I know. What does that have to do with anything? But trust me, things aren't looking bright for your friends, or us right now."

"What'd you mean?" Sho asked hesitantly, anxiety once again furiously worming its way around his heart. This year-long nightmare was supposed to be _over_. "The slave drivers, we beat them, right?"

"Yeah, we did. And it's not that." He raised his head, toward the Tower, before grimacing. "It's that damn Tower. The Ethernano, to be precise."

Baffled, Sho stared. "_What_?"

* * *

><p>"Jellal?" Panic seeped into her voice. "Wh-what's happening?" They stumbled as another bout of shaking rocked the Tower. It brought them to their knees.<p>

The Tower... The walls were swaying precariously, and if that wasn't enough, the floor was flaring a dangerous cerulean. Erza whirled round to face him. "J-Jellal?!"

"The Ethernano...the stuff that's used to power the Tower, it's unstable..." he muttered, bum still firmly planted on the ground.

Erza stumbled to her feet and grabbed a hold of Jellal's hand, unable to understand how the boy was so damn _contemplative_ of all things in such a dire moment. "Well, we can't stay here then, can we?" She tugged his hand to no avail. "We have to get outside!" she continued to insist.

_What's going on?_

Meanwhile, Jellal's mind raced. Such reaction from the Tower was impossible, as far as he knew. The way the Tower was structured prevented But-

"_Jellal_!" Erza's voice rose to a hysterical squeak. The shaking grew fiercer by the second and it seemed like any moment the walls would cave, and the floor to collapse. Now prominent cracks glowing blue zigzagged beneath their feet.

"Okay. Let's get out of here." He passed her what he called a weak smile, but she immediately brightened.

Hands clammy, Jellal assessed the situation, trying his best not to openly show his distress. It was mostly for Erza's sake, who was clinging to him as if her life depended on it. It was perfectly obvious that they would never make it outside alive, no matter what course of action they would decide to take.

Then that meant...

Something, perhaps his heart, felt as if it had been shredded to pieces. His stomach plunged painfully.

No. _Nononono_.

Jellal repressed the urge to cry out.

To come all this way... He furiously dismissed the thought.

We are _not_ going to die.

So Jellal steeled his resolve and retightened his hold on Erza's hand, swiveling his head spastically is search of _something_.

_Because what then?_

* * *

><p>Simon had finally succumbed to sleep after Wally and Millianna's insistence. All was quiet until Sho burst through the door.<p>

"Shh," Millianna reprimanded. Then they realized that Sho was crying.

"Sho, hey! Calm down and tell us what's wrong."

"Onii-chan and Nii-san..." he mumbled, between breathy exhales.

Millianna and Wally exchanged a nervous glance.

"Jellal and Erza..." Wally encouraged.

"They...they...they're..._not coming!_"

The sails snapping back against the wind sounded as if it was a world away. Struck with shock, Wally sunk to his heels and Millianna gaped.

"Nya- that can't be right! Jellal and Er-chan would never-"

"That's right, they hated that place!"

As Millianna and Wally reassured themselves fruitlessly, Sho only cried harder, never denying his previous assertion.

* * *

><p>The explosion knocked almost everything out of his chest and it did something funny to his vision, because everything was now underlined with a hazy blur of darkness. What he could make out was a splash of scarlet that was pressed against his chest and the hum of pretty golden light overhead. <em>It worked...<em>

However, his success did little to distract him of his head that was pounding with something awful. Even the introduction of a cool ocean breeze caressing his cheek did little to ease his discomfort.

He was about to somehow (he was still not quite sure how this magic thing worked) dissipate the shield, but as he fumbled to, he caught the glimpse of something definitely human and moving from the corner of his eye.

What the...

A man, to put it simply. But not a slave driver, nor a fellow slave. Someone different in different clothing with different intentions, for better or worse.

Pants coming out harsh and the world tipping at alarming levels, he feebly tried to maneuver himself to stand. This effort alone nearly caused him to black out and he ended up palms planted against the ground, panting and stomach rolling. The girl beside him faded in and out of vision.

_Erza_.

_Is she breathing?_ Jellal shakily placed his hand over her mouth. _Yes. Weakly. But she's not waking up..._ Through the persistent fuzz, feverish panic caused his heartbeat to quicken; it worsened when the unknown human continued to walk forward. The magic bubble quaked with his uncertainty, flickering with increasing intensity, and for about the hundredth time today, panic took another stab at Jellal's heart.

Come on..._come_ _on_.

Boots continued to crunch forward, creating more indents on the surface of the grainy sand. Then with one nonchalant motion, he slam the toe of his boot against Jellal's head.

"Aghh..."

The pain resounded in his head, bouncing every which way as he tensed against the onslaught, head drooping as seconds passed. It was pathetic, but a hapless "g-get _back_" was all Jellal could manage to enunciate before he slumped forward, wholly and utterly unconscious. The blue-haired boy's magic that had been serving as a bubble of protection flared, a bright and fiery gold before it snuffed out like a candle being short of its flame.

Silence reigned, and the rolling waves lapped at the pair's feet.

Brain impassively stared down at the duo. They were a mess of battered limbs and blood, prominent bruises here and there, and wounds opened to infection. Pathetic, Brain thought derisively, eyes lingering on the girl. His upper lip curled with contempt. He turned to the boy and the tiniest of satisfied smirks flickered to existence.

The sun began to set, and the open sky morphed into natural backlit of sensual crimson and orange. The choppy sea, vacant of ships, glowed a glittering pink. Brain stooped down to their level, and took the boy's chin in his hand. A crackle of magical energy zinged him, and despite that he was almost thrown back, Brain's smirk only deepened.

_You certainly do live up to your name, Fernandes._

* * *

><p>an: Thanks for reading this far (whatareyoutalkingaboutmethisisthe3rdchapter) and a review that reflects your thoughts would be nice.


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